


communication

by thisisthefamilybusiness



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Dishonored: Death of the Outsider, Gen, Human Outsider (Dishonored), Language Barrier, Languages and Linguistics, School, The Outsider can't actually speak Gristolian/English, The Outsider is Billie's terrible roommate, and Billie Lurk is tired of the Outsider's nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 22:53:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12592324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthefamilybusiness/pseuds/thisisthefamilybusiness
Summary: The Outsider comes home from his first day of school furious. “Bad,” he says, storming into the kitchen, where Billie is trying to make dinner.Billie tries not to laugh. “Sorry, kid.”The Outsider nods. “Children,” he repeats, but thech- sound at the start sounds more like ansh- in his accent. “I am with children. I am not children. I am Outsider.”“Speak Gristolian. Then, no more children.” This entire thing feels, in a small way, like payback, and Billie can’t help but giggle a little at the absurdity of the situation.Muttering to himself, the Outsider slinks back to his room, probably to write more in what Billie assumes is his diary.Dear Diary, today I was sent to school with children barely seven and eight years old. I used to be a god and now I can’t even tell Billie Lurk that I hate her in a way she’ll understand.





	communication

**Author's Note:**

> Billie: Hey, Outsider, could you please read this rune for me?  
> The Outsider: No.  
> (in a voiceover) Hi, my name is The Outsider, I'm four thousand years old, and I never learned how to read.

The Outsider doesn’t speak any language Billie can find a translation guide for.

Of course he doesn’t—he was a god, it’s perfectly logical that his language abilities came from his power and not any actual knowledge (how else could he speak to so many around the world without language being an issue?), and he was approximately 4,015 years old. The last time he was human they hadn’t even developed the Serkonan script.

She’s got notes on the runes from the old cultist, but they’re of almost no help, since he hadn’t bothered to explain what any of his notes meant. The language was lost, effectively.

They’re coping, though. Billie always was a terrible teacher (that the Outsider spends more of his time sulking than trying to learn doesn’t help), but they’re devised a few hand signals and she’s managed to teach him enough vocabulary for his basic needs. His accent was incredibly heavy—an odd lilting tone, and he couldn’t quite pronounce a few sounds—but he was understandable, and Billie had taught him how to say he was from Tyvia to anyone who questioned it. So few Serkonans had ever heard a real Tyvian speak that nobody could question it, especially not in Cullero.

It’s still frustrating when she can’t find her damn can of chicory in the morning and she doesn’t have a way to ask him beyond trying to draw a terrible illustration and gesturing angrily at it.

So Billie decides, watching the Outsider skulk out of bed well after noon, that it’s time to send him to school.

* * *

Getting the Outsider in school is easier than Billie would have anticipated. With a glove over her Void-forged arm and a bandage over the right side of her face, she passes for another sad mother from one of the poor fishing villages on the outskirts of town.

The tired-looking secretary at the free schoolhouse doesn’t ask for anything except the Outsider’s name (“Daud,” Billie had said quickly, and she could feel the Outsider glaring at her) and if he could read (“He’s my nephew, he’s from Tyvia,” and a little stack of coins had persuaded the secretary not to ask any questions about how a child from the Northern edge of the Empire had ended up in a Serkonan port town).

 The Outsider is not happy with this development. He might not understand exactly what’s happening, but he’s seen four thousand-off years of human progress. He must have seen a school at some point.

Either way, the teacher is dragging the ex-god towards a classroom and the Outsider is still visibly fuming at Billie, but she just smiles and waves as he vanishes around a corner.

* * *

The Outsider comes home from his first day of school furious. “Bad,” he says, storming into the kitchen, where Billie is trying to make dinner.

Billie tries not to laugh. “Sorry, kid.”

“Bad. I am in…” The Outsider pauses, saying something in his lost language that he knows Billie can’t understand but is damn sure is something rude. “I am with small people.”

She raises an eyebrow, setting down the knife she’d been chopping vegetables with. “Small people?” She gestures at her height, then points towards the floor. “Or children?” She imitates rocking a baby.

The Outsider nods. “Children,” he repeats, but the _ch-_ sound at the start sounds more like an _sh-_ in his accent. “I am with children. I am not children. I am Outsider.”

“Speak Gristolian. Then, no more children.” This entire thing feels, in a small way, like payback, and Billie can’t help but giggle a little at the absurdity of the situation.

Muttering to himself, the Outsider slinks back to his room, probably to write more in what Billie assumes is his diary. _Dear Diary, today I was sent to school with children barely seven and eight years old. I used to be a god and now I can’t even tell Billie Lurk that I hate her in a way she’ll understand._

* * *

“He’s a good student, Miss Marinos,” the teacher says hesitantly. She keeps nervously looking over Billie’s shoulder, to where the Outsider sits on a bench in the school hallway. “But there have been… problems. Daud will not listen to the Strictures or our weekly lesson from Overseer Sanna, mostly, and we are an Abbey-sponsored school, Miss Marinos. All we ask of our students is that they respect the Abbey, and Daud does not seem capable of that.”

In a more hushed tone, the teacher—a mousy, mild woman that reminds Billie of a rat—leans in. “Overseer Sanna has asked we inquire about performing a home life check. He is worried Daud may be involved in some sort of Tyvian witchcraft, in contact the Outsider.”

“Oh?” Billie bites down on her lip to keep from laughing. Void, if only they all knew. “I will speak with Daud about it right away. He’s probably just confused. You know, his village in Tyvia was very isolated, he might not have seen an Overseer before.”

“Thank you, Miss Marinos. Perhaps you could start attending weekly services at the chapel, with him? It might help ease Overseer Sanna’s mind, is all.”

“Of course.” Billie nods emphatically. “Tell the Overseer I’m very sorry about Daud’s behavior, will you?”

* * *

“Come on, Outsider. We’re going to be late to service.” Billie’s good hand settles on the doorknob.

The Outsider exhales heavily and reluctantly rises from his spot on their chaise. “Do not want to go to Overseers.”

“You were the one who couldn’t just sit still in class and listen to the Strictures, so now we both have to go to service.” Billie holds the door open with a smirk. “Come on. I’m sure they’re going to give us a lovely lesson on how you could be tempting us all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my Honorless writing challenge! No particular image inspired me (since the challenge is just to write a minimum of 500 words a day), but as always, my tag for the visual prompts is [here on my blog!](http://officialclaricestarling.tumblr.com/tagged/honorless)
> 
> talk to me [on tumblr](http://officialclaricestarling.tumblr.com) | [deleted]


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